


Chance or Fate?

by Spellweaver



Series: Between Earth and Thedas [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, Insert in Thedas, M/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Modern OC in Thedas, Multi, Original Character(s), Past Rape/Non-con, Sexual Content, non-binary original character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6174481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spellweaver/pseuds/Spellweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A variety of ficlets, some interconnected, of a variety of people who find themselves in Thedas based on prompts. Some may or may not branch out into their own individual stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asit tal-eb (Part 1)

 

MGIT Prompt #6

Posted by: Modern Girl in Thedas on Tumblr

Timeline: Dragon Age 2

The Modern OC gets plopped in the asshole of Thedas and…things aren’t going well. Hawke and co. are as untouchable as a bird in flight and Darktown smells like shit, is full of shit, and someone fucking stole their shoes. This isn’t a magical journey—Kirkwall is a corrupt pit of squalor they just can’t escape.

The Qun offers a way out.

\---

This is not Beta’d, so please be lenient with any mistakes. Not to mention that I wrote it in a few hours at night :P Info about Sage is intentionally left to the imagination, may better define them later on. Also, while Part 1 of this prompt isn't explicit- that will change. Even if I never get around to adding Part 2, I will be writing nsfw prompts as well.

\---

You know of all the things that could have happened, even in their wildest dreams (and how this could have been such a wonderful, wonderful dream) this wasn’t it. Maybe if things had been different- if they’d landed anywhere, any when even, else maybe things would have turned out differently.

But they hadn’t.

It was a wonder just how much they’d glossed over when playing the games. Darkness clung to Kirkwall like a veil, no pun intended, and considering what might have happened here centuries past, that wasn’t surprising... but then again, all that had been fan theory based on conjecture. Even if the shoe fit, the veil was thin, and holy shit a ton of real people here died here on a daily basis, even ignoring probable mass sacrifices of slaves centuries ago. Also, the fact that Thedas was well and truly medieval- or post-post-apopalyptic, depending on your point of view. That hadn’t really sunk in, until hunger began to gnaw relentlessly at their abdomen, and they’d been mugged the first time.

Life in Kirkwall would have been fine and dandy, maybe, if they’d been turned into an elf (let it be said that the elves in the alienage take care of their own, Merrill being a fine example of that) or maybe if they’d lived in England for longer than just their early childhood, or just been born Canadian. They had just enough of an accent to make the local lower class assholes turn their noses up at them (as if they weren’t all living in squalor down here, in both Darktown and Lowtown) but not enough of one for the Fereldan refuge families to take them under their wings. Not that anyone had the resources to care for anyone but their own, and the high class assholes couldn’t give a shit even if you gave them a chamber pot in which to shit. Just last month, they’d seen Chantry Mothers (with a vast retinue of Templar guards) asking for donations in mother fucking Lowtown. The treatment of mages in The Gallows was more of a symptom of widespread corruption in The Chantry, rather than its own individual thing, in their opinion, one that they’d developed way back when this had all just been a game.

It wasn’t like Kirkwall, the whole of Thedas even, had evolved socially or politically enough to consider things such as foodstamps or government housing... except for those under the Qun.

Sage, at the time of their arrival in this shit hole, had thought it unreasonably lucky that Common was actually English. Until they learned later that no, Common was definitely not English, and wow looks like you need to learn how to write and read again, as apparently the strange mental Google Translate they’d mysteriously been gifted with didn’t extend to written words. And as someone who had once almost graduated university, that had been a... humbling experience, to say the least.

Maybe, if crossing over to this goddamn place had given them magic, they could have turned themselves in to the Templars. Never mind the fact that there was a shit ton of abuse supposedly going on in The Gallows- at least they’d have a roof over their head, food, and a chance of an education. Hell, at this point, even being Tranquil wouldn’t have been so bad, at least then they’d never have to feel anything ever again. It wasn’t like the fact that they weren’t a mage stopped a patrol of Templars from getting handsy with them shortly after they arrived, before they were able to develop something resembling street smarts. The whispered threats still echoed loudly through their nightmares, because who would believe her, she was a no name beggar and, all they had to do was say she was a blood mage and they could could kill her, no questions asked, so stay quiet bitch. ( _seriously, fuck demons, fuck the Templars, fuck the mother fucking corrupt ass Chantry,_ _fuck Hawke_ _and fuck everyone in this stupid world)_

Yeah, meeting Hawke had been fun. He’d come in and rescued them- to be honest, they’d been in deep shit at the time, slavers had been involved even, but when the fighting stopped, and it became apparent that Sage didn’t have anything of value to offer, not even having even a vague idea of how to defend themselves or coin, he’d given them maybe a dozen coppers, and left with a few kind words. Sure, it had fed them for a while... but somehow they had expected something more.

What hurt most was the moment Sage had noticed he’d written them off as just another beggar. They hadn’t said anything about the future, near and far, or anything about being from another world. Standing out was dangerous, when you didn’t have the muscle to back it up. Hawke hadn’t even been with anyone she recognized, as much as you can recognize a video game character when they were given flesh, even Bethany or Carver. That meeting had been pretty early on, maybe three weeks into this hell, and had given Sage some vague idea of when they were. Kirkwall during the Blight, when Hawke was still doing jobs for Athen-something or maybe that mercenary guy. That had been, oh, almost two years now.

Oh, how Hawke had moved up in the world since them, they’d even bumped into him recently, when he was in Darktown, shared a little bit of knowledge even, but he hadn’t shown a whit of recognition or even much in the way of gratitude. As sad as it was, Sage was just one person of many, who despite their odd origin wasn’t really anything interesting compared to a former slave with Lyrium tattoos, a Rivaini pirate Captain or a dwarven merchant prince with a knack for writing smut. Even now, they had no idea how to fight anywhere near Hawke’s level, which was what would have been the key to integrating into their group early on. Spilled milk, and all that.

If only one person had done something, taken pity on them and taken them in, life would have been so much different. They didn’t belong to any community, an outcast even among the dregs of society. They’d tried, in the early days, to get an actual job, but with no one to vouch for them, had been unable to, even in the shadier businesses. Not that the shadier side was very picky with who they hired for certain aspects of their business, but Sage’s physique at the time made them unsuitable to grunt or mercenary work, and despite everything, they weren’t the kind of person who could spread their legs for money, especially not when they’d have to add the stigma of sex worker to everything else going against them in this world. And the one place they considered doing such work, The Rose, was actually pretty picky about who worked there, and they’d chickened out at the last second anyway. While Sage did not have anything against sex workers, work was work after all, they were ill suited to it.

An ugly sound tried to claw its way up their throat, and Sage realized they’d actually started crying, wet tears leaving visible tracks down their dirty cheeks. Not like you can have a shower when, one, they haven’t been invented yet, and two, you’re homeless in a world that doesn’t even pretend to give a shit about you. They thought they’d run out of tears, oh, about a year ago. At least, this time, they’d only been robbed blind/mugged, but holy shit, this was too much.

They should have been more careful. While homeless, they’d thought that their little Nook that they’d found deep in the veritable warrens of Darktown had been safe. Well, relatively safe, at least from the inhabitants that walked on two legs and called themselves people. But, apparently, they hadn’t been quite careful enough today, or maybe the subtle markers they had placed here and there to be a guide had been discovered and led the fuckers right to The Nook.

They whimpered, “I... hic... guess I was due for a fucking.” If there was anything that living in Thedas had taught Sage, it was the fact that the world owed them less than nothing, and was in fact a demanding bitch most of the time.

Sage took a quick catalogue of what was left... which wasn’t much. Luckily (unluckily, if they let themselves think deeper) their top and pants were raggedy enough that they’d been left alone, even as unusual as they were. Their usual necklace had sold a long time ago for food, so at least that had gone for a good cause... their food stores were gone, taken by the fucks, but their blanket (which was once pink plaid and fluffy, a relic of a better time, a Christmas gift from their mother) was left alone, since it looked like shit, even if the synthetic fibres probably survived relatively well when compared to what their knitted wool blanket from Grandma would have. That blanket had also been sold before it rotted away in this damp disgusting pit, when their clothes had still been presentable enough to do business with merchants in Lowtown. As for why they’d had them in the first place- they’d been lucky enough to be transported while driving to visit their parents, bedding in tow, deep into the bowels of Kirkwall.

No sudden flash of green or anything else had precipitated their arrival. One second they’d been driving on the road, and the next moment, swerving to avoid the sudden appearance of a motherfucking wall. (Their little lemon survived surprisingly well, hidden under a shit stained black tarp)

All their meagre savings they’d kept in The Nook... gone. While they never were able to get enough money for a house in Lowtown because they’d only risked selling items from their old life slowly, one by one, just enough to not starve to death. They had dared not go that deep into tunnels often, for fear that they’d lead someone else there, and oh my, would that be hard to explain.

‘ _Oh god, please don’t tell me they followed me to my car too...’_ Sage mentally wailed. The repercussions of someone else discovering their car were... unpleasant to say the least, even if the only act of that theoretical person was to destroy it. Not that they’d been there recently, ‘ _Oh, what would be lost.’_

All of their electronics, hell, everything they couldn't feasibly explain away, everything they had yet to sell or wanted to otherwise save, was packed away in their car. Which now that they thought of it just in itself, could be a treasure trove of knowledge in the right hands. They had all of the evidence they needed to prove their story to anyone reasonable- had this been anywhere but Kirkwall. The City of Chains, the corrupt shithole of The Free Marches. They’d probably have been executed or otherwise put out of the picture had their car come to light... for what lay in there could change the world. Or, the stupid superstitious assholes would declare it all blasphemous and burn Sage like Andraste at the stake on the pyre of their old life.

And despite everything, they didn’t feel like they could be responsible for that. This wasn’t their world- no matter who they had once been, it wasn’t their place to change this world in that way. As awesome as a steam punky Thedas would have been- imagining what Thedas could do with the knowledge locked away in their computer was always exciting, it wasn’t their place to do that.

Perhaps, ironically, the most valuable knowledge would be on their old laptop they’d taken on the trip, with plans to reformat it when they arrived and turn it into a birthday gift for their much younger brother. (who would have appreciated it so so much, better than it going to waste) but it held relics of their less than savoury past of being a binge torrent downloader- There was everything from Dungeons and Dragons handbooks to vintage plumbing manuals on there. Not that their current computer could be discounted- it had a vast amount of notes from their time in university, which alone would probably revolutionize mathematics in Thedas, not to mention the fact they had the actual fucking games on there and could totally predict the next ten or so years, with a good grounding in what could happen after. Also, their gaming consoles were there- way less valuable electronics that could be dismantled without losing any valuable knowledge, and studied.

Still, that didn’t help them now. With their ribs aching, cuts bleeding, and who knows what else wrong with them, Sage was worried that this was it. That this would be the rest of their life, adrift in a world with no where to go, their meaning in life lost, until they slowly starved to death after running out of things they could sell...And fuck, at that moment, they noticed that the thieving fucks had even taken their shoes. Those shoes had been nice faux leather flats that had actually blended in pretty well with the locals. They shoved what could be saved into their leather satchel.

Sighing as they began the arduous journey to Ander’s clinic yet again, wiping their tears off their face with their muddy hands and taking care not to step on anything that looked sharp, Sage couldn't help but feel cheated. Of what, they couldn’t quite put into words.

Even to Anders, kind as he was to the people he helped, they were just another refugee who needed help. They’d once considered reaching out to him, telling him everything, because of all the people who were in orbit around Hawke, he’d have been the one most likely to believe them, he’d already seen some pretty crazy shit. But, common sense had won out, since by the time they’d found him they’d had time to consider their situation. Telling anyone anything would just paint a huge target on their back. People around Hawke who couldn’t defend themselves had a nasty habit of dieing horribly. They were lucky they’d gone this long without anyone discovering the car independently, let alone what would happen if even one other person knew where it was.

Anders greeted Sage as they entered, herding them to a cot and began to assess their injuries. He was polite, but didn’t ask about what had happened, he never did. Interfering too much could bring the Templars down on his ass, because as long as he minded his own business even the more bigoted people were content to live and let live, in return for free healthcare.  _'Oh Canada, how I miss you'_

Later, they lay back on the cot, after Anders left to go deal with a kid with what seemed like a broken leg. Two broken ribs, some internal bleeding, a sprained ankle, a particularly deep cut on the sole of their right foot from just walking to the clinic, and other various cuts and bruises dealt with, it was easier to think. Luckily, Anders didn’t mind them staying for a while when it was slow like today. He even provided a thin broth and hunk of bread to chew on.

This life was, in a word, stifling. They had all this knowledge at their fingertips and could do nothing. Anything they could think of would most likely end up with them dead, or worse. From what they’d experienced so far, Kirkwall was a city well worth burning to the fucking ground... wait. Sage stilled on the cot.

 _Nooooo...._ They thought momentarily, chewing lightly on their already chapped lips and swallowing the stale piece of bread, but the thought held merit. Really, what had this world given them but misery? They sat up, considering their options.

Sage literally had no fucking place to go. No way they could go back to The Nook- either the fuckers would be there for round 2, if they were particularly vicious, or some other vagrant would be there like a vulture. Considering how relatively dry The Nook was, anyone who heard about it from the people who jumped them might have already taken up residence. Not to mention they had no shoes and walking all the way back there was just asking for another cut on their foot.

Still, they liked Anders, and a couple of the other mages they’d met... the way mages were treated under the Qun was inherently reprehensible... and who were they fucking kidding, they couldn't really find it in themselves to give a shit anymore. They weren’t a mage, even if that has been a desperate wish at first. Thedas was a shit hole with corrupt governments, monarchies with nobles who didn’t give a fuck whether the less fortunate lived or died. At least under the Qun Sage would be fed, housed, taken care of... and given a purpose. Maybe even visit the Tamassrans, some of whom seemed to act like sex therapists, and actually learn to enjoy consensual sex.

Sage had been left adrift since they arrived, struggling to live, barely holding their head over the water, and for what, really? They were beginning to see why some of the other assorted riffraff in Darktown had already converted.

Back home, Sage knew where they would go in life. They’d finish university, get a job the field they studied, find fulfilment in that, and maybe even settle down eventually and get two point five cats, despite being allergic. The field they studied was worthwhile, they’d help people out, in their own way. Life would have been good, if not great.

But now...

Now...

Sage tried to imagine the world where they gave the Qun the knowledge they held. Of all the societies easily within their reach, the Qun was the most likely to make use of it. It wouldn’t go to waste, practicality demanded that they would make use of it, especially if Sage could convince them that it wasn’t magic, and that despite their strange origins, Sage was no mage.

Would the Qun examine the philosophy textbook they had in their trunk, to see how it fit into their worldview? Sage thought on the books they could remember they had spread throughout their possessions. They could revolutionize medicine, hygiene, science, maybe even jump start an industrial revolution... Sage wasn’t naive enough to believe that they could change the Qun, and thought on what the Qunari could do with knowledge from their world. Any attempt at using their knowledge to raise their social stature would not be taken well, by any means, but at the same time, Sage had no doubt that the Qunari in charge of conversion would catch that they were hiding something, and use less than pleasant ways to get it.

And, did they really owe anything to the people who lived here? Other than misplaced affection from a whole world away, Sage couldn’t really find it within themselves to care anymore. Despite this, war was coming anyway, no matter what they did.

And... Talking of war, there was the future to consider.

Solas. He’d curbstomped the Qunari in the Crossroads during Trespasser... if they could even the playing field, things may play out differently. They couldn't really agree with the decision to strengthen the Veil overall, all clues pointed to the Qunari and elves being very magical races who might actually depend on the presence of the Fade to even exist. Really, look at how the elves changed just from what the Veil is like now... but life for Sage would seriously suck if the veil fell. Thinking of it, they could probably prevent the events of Inquisition... entirely. Even if it would negate Sage’s knowledge of the future... it might be worth it.

Sten from Origins seemed reasonable enough, though who knows what kind of brainwashing he experienced from then to whenever he became Arishok... and Sage knew nothing of the other Qunari leaders. They kind of wish they’d read all the comics and novels connected to the game now. But, the Qun could give them purpose, a reason to live instead of just survive, even if it was the kind of society that had not evolved cookies. Considering the way they lived now, that could only be an improvement. And, the Qun could not stand forever, all societies fell eventually, despite what a certain elvhen apostate might think. Perhaps the Qun could do what she could not- impart a system of government that actually took care of the common people, even if they did happen to use 1984 style secret police to do it. It could not stand forever, perhaps something worthwhile would emerge from the Qun's ashes.

If Anders knew anything of what Sage was putting into motion, perhaps he wouldn’t have let them go with a distracted goodbye and a halfhearted smile.


	2. Nobody (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short it is, I just felt the pseudo-codex is best by itself. I do have plans to continue this one, or perhaps take the same prompt but in a slightly different direction.
> 
> From Miss Snazzy's Prompt:
> 
> Give me a Modern OC that has been made Tranquil, but doesn’t fold to the whims of others. Because they might not feel anymore, but they remember.
> 
> They remember their morals, their hopes, their dreams, the way they sought to carry themselves through the world, even if they don’t remember the actual feeling of the emotions behind it all.  
> Give me a Modern OC who was pretty damn self-aware of themselves before, enough to run on logic alone.
> 
> Give me a Tranquil character who turns their weakness into a strength because no one expects the Tranquil to fight back, to manipulate, to even try.  
> And they might not feel that drive they once had, but they know they DID and that’s enough.

_The foreword in an unusually bright red journal, made out of a mysterious smooth material that is neither leather nor some sort of metal._

To whomever is now reading,

In here I have enclosed details that could make or break the future, and not one of my acquaintances would say that I am an individual prone to exaggeration. It contains my own concrete knowledge of the future as it would have been without my machinations, a basic account of said actions, as well as my own speculation of what is to happen as a result.

_The following is written in an unknown script, that does not resemble Common, or any known language._

I may not even be the first, however, as the extraordinary events that led to my arrival here occurred at least once I do not doubt that they could happen again. I have also included contact information that you, my reader, may find helpful. I do not doubt that you too, will find my foreknowledge helpful, even if you have never heard the word “Bioware” before. To be succinct, I have spread copies of my knowledge in books throughout Thedas. One I have entrusted to Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows. He may be hard to find, but he is trustworthy. Unlike this one, they are written entirely in English, with hopes that this will prevent the knowledge from falling to the wrong hands. But, it is there for those who would put it to good use.

I regret to inform you that the only language that I knew prior to arriving in Thedas was English, and thus the translation guides found in some copies are only from English to Common. If the person reading this is a Thedosian who has acquired one of my journals and made the effort to understand it, I ask that you aide my fellow travellers, even if only out of self-interest. I left before everything that would happen in Thedas was revealed, it is entirely possible that the next person to arrive here would have knowledge that would make what I knew inaccurate.

It would have been easy to do nothing, perhaps even logical, to have let events follow the way of fate. Stand at the sidelines and let Bioware’s story unfold, as eventually there would be an end, most likely a happy one. (It would not do to have a bleak ending to the cash cow series) However, that was not what I had wanted, back then. I was a very passionate individual, with very strong convictions, whom believed the best of most people. I wanted to try and make things better for everyone, without thought to the very real response that my efforts would evoke. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20.

_The text returns to the Common Tongue._

I will preface this with the fact that I am Tranquil. I suppose the people of Thedas would find it strange that I have done this. I will say this in return. Even in the absence of emotion, the core of my being, what had made me who I am, has remained. I can remember who I used to be, and what I wanted to achieve. That will have to be enough. I write this down to ensure that there is some record of the changes I wrought, and provide guidance for those who come here after me.

You may wonder about why I am being so forthright in this and there is one reason. I will not have everything I have worked for go to waste by being stingy with my knowledge, despite the precautions I have put in place to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. I am only one person. Her work will not die with me.

To a bright future,

A Friend

_Upon further inspection, there are bloodstains on the edges of the pages. The cover itself seems strangely resistant to liquids._


	3. Asit tal-eb (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally had some inspiration!

Their face could have been carved out of marble for all of the expression they showed. Their Rethaad stood behind them, towering walls of muscle that dwarfed their comparatively small frame as they made their way into the room that was to be used for the meeting with the representatives from the Inquisition. The Kithshok once known as Sage took a deep bracing breath to gather strength for the meeting ahead. The Rethaad to their left let out a small concerned sound, but said nothing. Kithshok was sure his blue eyes would be full of concern for them, and that he would be open to being late to discuss what was to come a bit longer... but now was not the time for overt signs of weakness.

The King of Fereldan, a well known Basalit-an who had somehow managed to maintain positive relations with the late Arishok, had provided neutral grounds for the dialogue between the Inquisition and The Qunari. An Ashaad opened the door for them, and they went into the spacious, and almost oppulent meeting room.

“Is the Qun serious, Tiny? They sent the _Butcher_ of Kirkwall to do their negotiating?” A dwarf that could have only been Varric Tethras commented to Hissrad quietly, apparently under the assumption that they could not hear, or perhaps would not care what he had to say. He was not exactly wrong, even if it caused a small ache somewhere deep inside, a place they assumed they had burned and buried long ago. A couple heart beats later, his composure broke, and he stuttered out “and is that... is that Junior? Carver? Is that _you_? We thought you had died!”

The quick exhale of breath revealed that Rethaad to the left was not quite as unaffected as he might have wanted to be, but he did not break rank. His vitaar covered body probably stood in stark contrast to how he must have looked when Varric had last seen him.

‘ _Good. Someone deserves some noms later.’_ Was a thought that fluttered quickly through their mind, filed away to be taken care of later.

Kithshok could remember the day they had really met Rethaad, when he was still an angry young man grumbling in his older brother’s shadow, and they were still a much too skinny, recently converted Viddathari.

When they had gone to the Qunari on that fateful day, they had been forthright from pretty much the get go. They had told their tale stuttering, knees shaking like they were out in a Canadian winter in a bikini, Arishok and various members of the Antaam looking on impassively. It had been an incredibly tense few moments before the Arishok had gestured for a Taarbas to begin recording their words. It had been a... defining moment in Kithshok’s life.

Their car, and various other items, had been recovered with little to no trouble. The nobles up in Hightown complained about the Qunari, yes, but at that time did not really care if they ventured into Darktown.The car had laid deep in the bowels of the compound, being catalogued by eager archivists. They’d been down there for a few hours trying to explain what this or that thing was, and then trying to find a solution to the power problem.

It had been a relatively good day, all things considered. Sage, no _Viddathari_ had been given new clothes and **shoes** ,as befitting their station when the Qunari had accepted them into their ranks. They had slept in a nice dry cot for two weeks now, their belly actually full every night before light’s out, sleeping deeper than they had in years even if they had to share their living space with the other converts. Their first night there, a kind Ashaad stopped them from becoming sick from stuffing themselves silly. Something that they could have surprisingly done even just on their rations, given how long it had been since Viddathari had eaten a full meal. It was the most delicious thing they’d ever eaten.

They had been puzzling over the verse that had been assigned to them during that morning’s lecture. They’d been excused from the evening lectures since arriving to help the Taarbas and Tallis investigate their former possessions.

“Suffering is a choice, and we can refuse it...” they muttered, walking through the compound towards what was basically the cafeteria, housed in a surprisingly ornate tent. Fate or chance, Viddathari had absent mindedly bumped into a Carver Hawke who was impatiently tapping his foot, waiting with Varric and Fenris for Hawke Senior to finish his meeting with the Arishok. Luckily, even then, Rethaad was built like a brick wall and Viddathari hardly even moved him let alone knocked them both over. But, with everyone beginning to stare at them, Viddathari instinctively cowered, and apologized profusely but quietly.

They hadn’t shared more than a couple words, with Varric and Fenris acting as a bit of a peanut gallery, with their sarcastic quips. They remember feeling kind of sorry for him, but it was his choice to stay in his brother’s shadow. Only he could chose to step out if it.

At that point, they’d really thought that would be the last they saw of them. Oh, if only they’d knew what would really happen. But, enough reminiscing.

Kithshok had thought that The Inquisition was beyond such petty machinations such as bringing, of all their members, Varric to the meeting, but apparently they were wrong. They may also have to involve the Ben-Hassreth... even a small leak could sink ships. It was relatively well known in the Antaam that the Rethaad formerly known as Carver Hawke was a member of their retinue. At least “Senior” was not there to make things _too_ lively.


	4. Accidentally in Love (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabrina hasn't been in Kirkwall long, but she has lived there long enough to know she wants to forget about everything, if only for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be gentle this is my first time writing smut. Let me know what you guys think of it. The majority of this chapter is sex, so if that isn't your thing please skip over this chapter.

_Dear Diary,_

_I cannot believe this is my life._

_I swear the first time had been an accident. Well, not really an accident, at least not in the act itself. More like, who it was with. I had just intended to find someone to bend me over and fuck me so hard I would forget how shitty everything was, if only for an evening._

_I remember the sly glances, pointed words and suggestive body language. He’d looked kind of familiar, but then, at that moment, I didn’t really give a shit about more than his pretty blue eyes and giant biceps. Yum._

_And I guess because fucking was the only thing on my mind, I let other things get away from me too._

~ Excerpt from a small leather bound diary found in The Champion of Kirkwall’s mansion.

 

Behind her, he held her long ginger hair out of her face with surprising gentleness, and placed loud open mouthed kisses along the side of her neck. He fumbled momentarily around her still covered breasts, hovering awkwardly, before she took one of his hands and guided it to her right breast. He squeezed firmly, circling his thumb around her her hardening nipple.

What a gentleman, breezed through Sabrina’s mind briefly before he took her face firmly in hand, turned it to face him, and pressed their mouths together, taking her bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it. She could feel all of her blood travelling southward, leaving her dizzy with arousal. She moaned into his mouth and he deepened the kiss, their teeth clicking together momentarily as he traced the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

She sighed happily and ground her ass against him, feeling his erection straining against her. She parted their mouths reluctantly, and purred, “Ready to go, big guy?”

“Whenever you are,” each word was emphasized with a thrust against her back. Cheesy, but at this point she could barely hear anything else over the rapid beating of her heart. She took a step forward and positioned herself against the dirty brick wall. Sabrina could hear the slight sound of cloth rustling behind her, she heard his little moan as she had shifted positions, and could feel her anticipation building. Luckily, she’d come prepared for an evening spent on her metaphorical back, so when his hands trailed fire down to her waist and he hiked up her dress, he found no other barrier.

She was braced against the wall as she felt his cock slowly enter her quivering entrance from behind. He paused momentarily, presumably waiting for her okay, and she forcefully sank the rest of the way down on his cock. Apparently taking that as permission, he dug his fingers into her thighs and began to fuck her in earnest.

The hard wall dug into Sabrina’s face as tall, dark and handsome’s forceful thrusts pushed her against the brick wall of the building they were fucking behind, but with the steady pressure from his hand, she wasn’t sure which one, on her clit, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The loud noise coming out of the Hanged Man covered the noise of their joining, and also her small shriek of surprise that turned into loud moans as he shifted their positions, picked her up, and began to fuck her face to face. He was holding her up against the wall, her legs wrapped around the waist, while he set a frantic pace.

Frankly, just the show of strength was a turn on.

Kissing her again, he licked at her lips, asking for permission to deepen their kiss, until she parted her mouth and he began to suck on her tongue. Sabrina could feel the tension coil in her core, the electricity tingling down her spine, hopefully not literally.

“Harder,” she begged him, and he obliged, the squelching noises of their joining bodies came to the forefront of her mind as she could see his cock disappearing and reappearing into her swollen cunt. She freed one hand from around his neck to stroke her aching nub with. With other hand she stroked the glistening muscles on his arm, and then moved up to grab his fur lined open collar when he changed angles and hit a spot inside her that had her seeing stars.

She could feel herself building to a toe curling orgasm until suddenly, he froze, grunted loudly, and she could feel him pulse inside of her as he came.

‘ _Shit.’_ She thought momentarily, as her one night stand thrust gently into her, riding out the waves of his own orgasm. Her own steady strokes against her clit slowed down. The kiss was still excellent, but was tinged by her own sense of upcoming disappointment. The men here, in general, weren’t the most generous of people when all was said and done on their end.

Their eyes met as their lips parted ways, smouldering blue meeting slightly wary light brown. They were both breathing heavily, Sabrina could feel their combined wetness trailing down from where they were still joined. She suddenly became aware of how his leather bracers had chaffed against the sides of her thighs.

Something must have showed on her face, as he looked at her in concern and asked, “Are you alright?”

Still pinning her up against the wall, she could taste his ale tinged breath on her face. She could feel his very attractive shoulder muscles quiver against the hand she was still holding onto him with. On one hand she hadn’t cum yet, but on the other, he might not take it well if she said he left her unsatisfied. She was in a very vulnerable position.

Sabrina decided to take a gamble and growled, “Lousy lout you are, finishing before me!”

He blinked in surprise, and then smirked, “Well, my mother always said I should never leave a lady waiting.”

He slid out of her, put her down, and dropped to his knees. Sabrina had just a moment to grab his thick dark hair for support before he parted her lower lips and thrust two meaty fingers up into her. She gasped out a quiet holy shit as he made a come hither motion with his fingers and began to lap at her clit. Sabrina could feel her knees going weak, but his other muscular arm supported her when her legs suddenly couldn’t support her weight and she finally felt her orgasm ripple through her.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me prompts!


End file.
